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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26453917">august</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/capricornwhore69/pseuds/capricornwhore69'>capricornwhore69</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Criminal Minds (US TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol, F/M, Underage Drinking, cursing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:53:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,355</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26453917</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/capricornwhore69/pseuds/capricornwhore69</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>back when i was living for the hope of it all.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Spencer Reid/Original Female Character(s), Spencer Reid/Reader, Spencer Reid/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>I've never been a natural, all I do is try, try, try.</em>
</p><p>He was the most handsome man I had ever laid eyes on. And I know that’s a cliche statement, but in this case, it was one hundred percent true. He walked past me with a gait that both intimidated and intrigued me. He walked as though he knew he would never falter, never trip, and never fall. He had a jawline that looked as if it were chiseled by Zeus himself. His curly brown hair fell right above his eyes, not completely masking his bold eyebrows. And his eyes. Oh my god, his eyes. The more I looked at them, the more I got lost. They were a deep hazel, with specks of green and gold, that could surely be seen from space. His hands were encapsulating, as if they had a magnetic force emitting from them, pulling me towards him. The way he briefly touched his beautiful lips with the tips of his fingertips did something to me I couldn’t explain. </p><p>I realized I was staring and quickly tried to pull my attention back to the book I was reading, but I continued to glance up at him. He walked by me, close enough that I could feel the slight breeze he caused to blow past me. It vaguely smelled like cedar, cotton, and- was that vanilla? I looked at him briefly before he walked completely out of my eyesight and let myself dream for a second. Who was that? And why have I never seen him before? Okay sure, campus is about 40,000 people large, but still. He was in my vicinity now, so surely he had a class around here.</p><p>Okay, that was enough daydreaming. I tried to inhale his scent once more before checking the time. My watch said 12:36 pm which meant that my next class was in twenty-four minutes. I spread myself out on the ground by the tree I was at and continued to read. Today was the first day of my Criminology class, so I wasn’t too nervous about getting any studying in beforehand. Plus, the class was huge, so I didn’t need to worry about getting called on to answer a question if I didn’t want to. I checked my phone before getting up and making my way to class. It was a beautiful day out, as if that boy- excuse me, man, I saw earlier created the perfect environment for him to walk in. The sun was shining but there were just enough clouds speckling the deep blue sky. The trees were a vibrant green, going perfectly with the freshly cut grass. It felt impossibly perfect, considering it was the middle of August. Shouldn’t it be excruciatingly hot? But no, the breeze felt perfect on my warm skin and didn’t cause a chill as I picked up the pace into the Behavioral Sciences Building. </p><p>As I walked through the glass door, I felt the chill of the AC hit me as soon as my foot graced the tile floor. It immediately sent a shiver down my spine, similar to the one I felt earlier when that immortal in human form glided past me. I felt myself lose focus and completely miss the elevator I planned on using. I shook it off and pretended like walking to the stairs was what I had intended all along. I opened the door to the corridor and began ascending the stairs that seemed to never end. I checked my watch one more time, to assure that I was still on time, and I was actually ahead of my own extremely strict schedule. As I reached the floor I needed, I took out my phone to scroll mindlessly while I waited for my professor. Of course, I was here before anyone else. My mom always told me “on time is late and early is on time,” so I always made sure to be early by her standards: at least fifteen minutes before any event was supposed to start. But not for parties. I promise I’m not that much of a nerd. Maybe. </p><p>Anyways, I took a seat in the third row, close enough that I could see the front without straining my eyes, but not so close that I would be able to eyefuck my professor throughout the lecture. Not that I would. But I’ve seen some try. I don’t understand why people have a professor kink, but to each their own I guess. I stuck my nose into my twitter feed and waited for time to pass. About thirty seconds later, I heard the door open. I expected to see another student, but instead I saw the God that had graced my presence earlier. I tried to stop my jaw from flying open, but I failed miserably. Trying to play it cool, I tucked my hair behind my ear and started to organize my things for class. I looked up at him, seeing that he was already, was he? Staring at me? But I managed a meek smile and basically whispered the word “Hi.” His mouth moved and he spoke the word “Hello” before taking a seat at the front of the class. This kid was the professor? What was I supposed to do? Not stare at him the whole class? I just decided to keep my head down and try to focus solely on moving around my things, whether purposeful or not.</p><p>About fifteen minutes passed and as more students strolled into the lecture hall, the man I am definitely <em> not </em>staring at, began to write his name on the large whiteboard at the front of the class. “Dr. Reid.” Hmm. Sounds pretty formal. I instantly began to wonder if he was going to be a hardass and to dread the drudgery that I may encounter throughout this semester. I was taking six classes with a course load that could make a grown man cry. Or in my case, a 20-year-old woman. I do my best to pay attention throughout the lecture, rather than staring at the beautiful man in front of me. The class’s material genuinely interested me, but I couldn’t get over the fact that this man, who I thought was a (gorgeous) student, was my professor. He looked too young to be a professor. Far too young to be a Doctor. How quickly was he able to get his degree? Or maybe I’m just terrible at guessing ages, which I usually am. </p><p>Before I got too lost in thought, I heard a firm voice come from the top of the room. “Hello everyone. My name is Dr. Spencer Reid and I will be your Criminology professor this semester. You can call me Spencer, Professor Reid, or Dr. Reid, I really don’t mind. Before we get started today, I want to tell you all a little bit about me.” He clears his throat and leans back on his desk, laid in perfectly in the center of the room, and I see his dress pants crease slightly. I shake myself in desperate need to pay attention to the words he was saying, rather than his legs, which I could only assume were as perfect as the rest of him. I tried not to aim my gaze around his waist but it seemed to land there all on its own. </p><p>“I have a full-time position at the FBI with the Behavioral Analysis Unit. They allow me time off on Mondays and Wednesdays to teach, which is how I’m here today” He chuckles lightly. “We work on serial cases and the occasional kidnapping case across the country. We use our knowledge of human behavior to analyze the serial killers we chase down. It helps us understand why they do what they do and what their next move might be. I’ve always found human behavior extremely interesting, which is what brought you all here today I hope.” </p><p>He walks around his desk and gathers a large stack of papers in his hands. Oh god, those hands. His fingers were long and slender, and his veins were so prominent, it should be illegal to have hands that attractive. I, once again, caught myself before he made his way down the middle of the row of seats, handing a small section of the papers to the student sitting at the end of each row. He made his way to the third row and handed me a portion of the papers. I took the stack from his hands and briefly looked up and found him looking right into my eyes. My breath hitched as I tried to focus myself and not fumble the papers everywhere. I collected myself and took a syllabus for myself and passed them down my row. Soon enough, I found myself looking back at him as he handed the rest of the syllabi out, hopefully not drawing attention to myself. He walked back down the steps and placed himself at the front of the lecture hall. “I understand that the majority of you will find it strange that I am handing out physical copies of the syllabus, but I have always preferred hard copies to digital ones, and I believe that should apply to students as well. In fact, direct mail requires twenty-one percent less cognitive effort to process than digital media, suggesting that it is both easier to understand and more memorable. Post-exposure memory tests validated what a cognitive load test revealed about direct mail’s memory encoding capabilities. When asked to cite the brand of an advertisement they had just seen, recall was seventy percent higher among participants who were exposed to a direct mail piece than a digital ad. Long story short, handwrite your notes.” A small wave of laughter settled over the class. I found myself smiling like a giddy schoolgirl, staring at Dr. Spencer Reid. How am I supposed to focus when he looks like <em> that </em>? I guess I’ll have to figure it out. </p><p>The rest of the class went smoothly. The handsome professor went over the syllabus and his expectations for us in his class. The clock struck 2 pm and I found myself writing down the reading assigned for tonight. Reading? Who assigns reading on the first day of classes? No matter, I read the beginning of our textbook ahead of time, so I didn’t find myself too worried. I stuffed my papers and my journal into my bookbag and tried not to stumble as I gathered my things to walk out of class. I walked past the man I had been trying, and failing, not to stare at for the entirety of the class period. I smiled a small smile and softly said “Thank you” as I walked out the door. He smiled back and waved softly as I melted into the hallway. </p><p>I had three classes on Mondays and I always tried to end my day as early as possible, so I walked back to my on-campus apartment; Criminology was my last class of the day. Yes, I start my day earlier than 8 am and I can probably be classified as certifiably insane. At least, according to my roommate’s standards. As I entered the cramped apartment, I found my roommate, Amber, asleep on the couch, a tv show playing softly on her laptop. I laughed at the sight of her, limbs everywhere and mouth agape, wondering how she could sleep like that in the middle of the day. It didn’t matter, she knew what worked best for her. She was one of the most accomplished people in our class. She majored in Political Science and International Studies and she seemed to ace every class with ease. I was in awe of her in that regard, as well as her ability to nap at any time and anywhere. We met each other last year in our Freshman Honors lecture and we had been attached at the hip ever since. I don’t think I’ve ever felt as close and safe with a person as I did Amber. I trusted her with all of my secrets and she trusted me with hers. I was extremely grateful to have her in my life.</p><p>Scoffing at Amber, I made my way to my bedroom and sat my stuff down in the corner of the room. I jumped onto my bed and began to scroll mindlessly on my phone. About fifteen minutes passed before Amber barged into my room. “Amber!” I jumped, embarrassingly startled by her entrance, “Jesus Christ, you scared the fuck out of me, I thought you were asleep.”</p><p>“I was,” she started, “but now I’m not. Funny how sleeping works like that.” I roll my eyes at her. “Anyways,” she continues, “I heard there was gonna be a big party tonight in honor of the first week of classes and I was thinking we would go!” She bounces on the balls of her feet, smiling innocently at me. </p><p>“Amber, you know I don’t really party” I say.</p><p>“I knowwwww but… I thought I could drag you out tonight?” She clasps her hands dramatically. “Please? I just want to have some fun with you before we’re both consumed by homework. Please? I’ll never ask you for anything ever again.” She smiles her stupid smile again.</p><p>“Okay fine, I give in.” I say and she jumps up and down. </p><p>“Thank you Y/N!! You won’t regret this!” She says as she exits my room. <em> I sure hope not </em> , I think to myself as she closes the door. I go back to scrolling on my phone before setting it down to take a nap before getting ready to go out tonight. I never stay up late so I needed to prepare myself if I was going to stay out all night. I know Amber will want to get drunk and party until at <em> least </em>5 am, and I wasn’t about to abandon her just to get a good night’s sleep. This could be fun, right?</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>I stare at myself in the mirror as I put on my tightest fitting dress. It was a red bodycon dress that I never felt especially confident in, but tonight I felt pretty good! I put on a pair of simple black heels to go with it. Normally I would wear something more practical, like shorts and a crop top, or something a little more moveable, but Amber insisted we go all out. “If this is the only party you’re going to this semester, you need to look your best! Why not?!” I couldn’t argue with her, she was right. I might as well look good, who knows, maybe I’ll meet someone tonight. I hadn’t had a real relationship since, well, ever. I was never one to put myself out there. I always focused on my studies and I worked part-time jobs whenever I could. Relationships and romance were never a top priority for me. Sure, it would be nice, but I could live without it. I had much more important things to tend to. Amber was helping me forget about all of those responsibilities tonight, which I admit, was a nice feeling. I sat down at my desk to finish my makeup and touch up my hair before I presented my look to Amber. I stood up, smoothed out my dress, and walked out of my bedroom, doing a dramatic twirl for her. “Ooooh, GIRL! You look hot!!!” She squealed and I smiled wide as I bounced over to her. </p><p>“So do you!! Bitch you always look good, how DARE you!” I said teasingly as I dramatically fawned over her. We grabbed our phones with our ID’s (real and fake) and some money tucked in the cases of them, not wanting to carry much else with us. I double-checked to make sure I had everything put away and everything with me that I needed. Amber stood in the doorway, checking her wrist as though she was checking the time, silently telling me to hurry up and that I was worrying over nothing. I sighed, “Okay, okay!” and ran out the door behind her. I triple-checked that we locked the door and followed Amber down the stairs of the apartment complex. </p><p>We made our way down to the lobby and out of the building’s front doors, the temperate climate and humid breeze hitting us as we walked to the edge of the street. Amber and I turned our heads to see our Uber approaching from the left and I double-checked to make sure that the car was definitely ours and that the driver inside matched the picture from the app. Amber always told me that I was too skeptical and cautious, but I don’t think that’s even possible, being a woman in the twenty-first century. An Uber driver could be a kidnapper or a serial killer, who knows! As soon as I verified the Uber’s identity, Amber climbed over to the far side of the car as I trailed behind her. I sat down on the covered seat and looked over as Amber gave the driver the location of the bar we were headed to. A feeling in my gut started to arise but I wasn’t sure what it was. <em> Probably just nerves </em>, I told myself as I took a few deep breaths and looked out the window. I tend to get nervous about almost any event, regardless of the severity of the situation. Amber asked the man sitting in front of us if she could play some music from her phone and he obliged. She proceeded to put on “Party in the U.S.A” by Miley Cyrus and I looked at her and grinned. This was always our going out song. We danced in the back of the car and sang obnoxiously loud in preparation for the night.</p><p>We finally arrived at the bar in which one of the biggest parties in the school was happening. Honestly, I’m more into house parties, but the only house parties here are the ones happening in frat houses and I am <em> not </em> down for getting drugged and harassed by rich, white, republican frat guys. We paid (and tipped) the Uber driver and made our way into the club. The line wasn’t long at all, considering most people had gotten there as early as socially acceptable to maximize their partying time. The bouncer let us through (thank GOD because I spent enough money on that fake ID) and we danced our way through the crowd and to the bar. We met up with a group of friends from our shared freshman year English 101 class and proceeded to get a round of tequila shots. One round turned into four and into ten. One could say I was officially wasted. I don’t normally party, but when I do, I party <em> hard </em>. Go hard or go home, right? Thanks to my not-completely-ruined inhibitions, I made my way to the bartender and asked for a large glass of water. “Party-pooper!” Amber slurred as she grabbed my shoulder for leverage.</p><p>“Hey! I just don’t wanna be super hungover tomorrow. It’s literally-” I hiccupped and giggled as I stared into Amber’s eyes, trying to gain some semblance of solidity in my footing, “It’s literally only Monday. I have <em> three </em> classes tomorrow and I always start my days earlier, you <em> know </em> this! I don’t wanna be drunk at my 8 am lecture!” I basically yelled at Amber’s face because the music and bass were so loud, I couldn’t hear my own thoughts. </p><p>“Okay, okay!” Amber shouted back at me, “Take a seat at the bar lame-o! <em> I </em> am gonna dance with that cute guy over there and maybeee you and I won’t be leaving together.” She pointed to a tall, blonde-haired man who was smiling and staring at Amber. She waved a flirty hand at him and started to walk away but her hand lingered on my shoulder. </p><p>“Amber!” I grabbed her wrist before she walked away, because I was <em> not </em> standing up right now. “Just… Be careful, okay? Text me if you do leave with him because I do not want anything happening to you. And I expect you to update me with texts with your location when you leave and if anything else happens okay? I love you, you know that right?” My fears were sobering me up quicker than the water was. </p><p>“I know! I love you too, silly. I promise I will be careful. I’ll make sure I know he is who he says he is before we leave and I won’t let him drive, we’ll take an Uber or something, okay? I don’t even know if I will leave with him, I was just thinking about it.” She paused for a second. “Thank you for caring about me, Y/N. I really do love you.” She smiled at me and I smiled back as she walked away to go dance with the handsome stranger across the floor. </p><p>My happy feelings dwindled for a moment as I sobered up and realized I was no longer a part of any group. Mine and Amber’s friend group had dispersed across the bar and the dancefloor, all trying to go home with someone. I would make that my mission too but frankly, I was too drunk to be completely aware of the goings on around me. I took out my phone and pulled up the Uber app, ready to go home. My plans changed when I looked around me and saw a familiar face at the very end of the bar. Dr. Reid? Why is he here? This bar is mainly occupied by college <em> students </em>, plus today was a huge party day, it didn’t make sense. Against my better judgement, I found myself standing up and walking towards him. I tried my hardest to walk straight and keep my eyes focused. I didn’t want to make my first real impression with him, one of me being blackout drunk. I downed the rest of my water before making my way to him. “Professor?” I questioned as he stared off into the distance. </p><p>“Oh! Hi. I’m sorry, what was your name again?” He asked nervously. <em> Why did he seem nervous? </em>I don’t think I ever told him my name. In fact, I barely think I even said hello. </p><p>“Oh, it’s Y/N.” I smiled at him. Normally, I would extend a hand to greet someone of authority, like him, but my hands were clammy and probably dirty from being in a bar like this. <em> I hope he doesn’t think I’m weird. </em> He looked down, expecting me to extend a hand as well, I assume. He looks back up and meets my eyes. </p><p>“It’s nice to officially meet you.” He says.</p><p>“You too.” I say and smile. We’re both quiet for a moment and I look around, trying to think of something to say. <em> I’m so awkward. </em> I take a deep breath, in hopes that it would spur a thought or initiate something to come out of my mouth, but it doesn’t.</p><p>“You look very nice.” He says and I come short of shaking my head in surprise.</p><p>“Thank you! My friend insisted we dress up tonight.” I laugh softly and smooth my dress down with my hands. <em> Should I compliment him too? Would that be weird? </em>“Um, if you don’t mind me asking,” I continue, “why are you out at a student bar tonight? I assume you knew about the party happening?” I don’t know where the confidence came from for me to ask him a question, but I was curious nonetheless.</p><p>“Um,” He chuckles and looks at the ground for a moment. “My friend and I were out with our coworkers and he insisted on coming here afterwards. I mentioned the parties that are thrown during the first week of classes and he couldn’t resist, I guess.” He nodded his head to point me in the direction of a very handsome man, dancing with a woman who couldn’t be much older than me. </p><p>I laugh and turn back to him. “Are you not the partying type, Dr. Reid?” I don’t know where these conversational skills were coming from. I had a hard time opening up to people my own age, much less authority figures. </p><p>“Not really. I mostly teach, work, and go home, to be quite honest.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Please, sit down, you don’t have to stand. I’m sure those shoes aren’t really meant for standing.”</p><p>“Thank you.” I laugh at his comment about my shoes. “Yeah, I wouldn’t say they’re the most comfortable pair I own.” I take the seat next to my professor. “And me too, for the most part. My friend kinda dragged me out here tonight.”</p><p>“And where’s your friend now?” He questions. I point to the far corner of the club, where Amber was grinding on the man she was telling me about earlier. </p><p>“She’s a little more outgoing than me.” I laugh and ask the bartender for another glass of water. I can tell he’s looking at me from the corner of my eye. Why does that make me so nervous? I instinctually start to bite the nails on my left hand. I barely noticed I had started doing that, so I didn’t expect my professor to notice it at all.</p><p>“Are you nervous?” He asks and I pull my nails away from my mouth.</p><p>“Um, I guess so? I don’t go out too often and new places and people tend to make me anxious, I guess.” I look down at the bar and the glass in my hands. </p><p>“I get that.” He says.</p><p>“Um, do you mind if I ask how old you are? I’m sorry if that’s a little bit out of nowhere, I just remember you introduced yourself as Doctor this morning in class, and I initially thought you couldn’t be much older than me.” My curiosity got the best of me, I suppose.</p><p>“Uh, I’m 26. I have three PhDs in chemistry, mathematics, and engineering.” He rattles the list off as if he says it every day.</p><p>“Woah, what are you, like a genius or something? How the hell did you get three PhDs before 26?” I cover my mouth almost immediately. “I’m sorry for cursing, I don’t know, is that not appropriate?” I blush and look down again.</p><p>He chuckles, “No, it’s fine, don’t worry about it. And I have an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, and I can read 20,000 words per minute so, yes, I guess technically, I am a genius.” He smiles at me and- is that a smirk I see? </p><p>My jaw practically flies open. “Wow, I guess I’ll have to try extra hard in class to impress you.” I find my courage again and look into his eyes. I almost immediately get lost in the swirls of gold and green. I find myself blushing again and somehow more words leave my mouth. “Would you, um, like to go talk outside? It’s really loud in here and my throat is getting sore.” I begin to stand up after he nods. I look for Amber and as soon as I make eye contact with her across the room, I mime typing on my phone as a signal for her to text me and that I’ll text her with whatever I’m doing. What am I doing? Am I going to talk to my professor and leave? Or am I going to leave with him? No, I can’t even think about that, that’s ridiculous. Whatever, Y/N, just worry about getting outside of the bar.</p><p>I push the heavy wooden door of the club open, exiting while Dr. Reid follows. I make my way towards the edge of the building, the music muffled by the walls. I lean up against the stone wall of the building and fiddle with my phone in my hands. </p><p>“Is this weird? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be blunt but, you’re my professor. Do you normally talk to students at bars or was this just a weird coincidence? Or is this not weird, considering we’re not too far apart in age, I guess, and I mean, we’re both adults, right? I’m sorry I’m rambling I just feel awkward I guess I’m not sure what to say, um…” I cut myself off and look away, trying to find solace in the air around me.</p><p>He laughs again. Why is his laugh so attractive? “No, I don’t think it’s weird. It’s nice to have a conversation every once in a while, even if it’s with a student. Even if it’s outside a college bar. I don’t find much time to talk about topics that aren’t serial killers or behavioral analysis.” I jump as he uses his hand to bring my face and my eyes back to his. <em> What was that? </em> “I’m sorry,” he says, “I didn’t mean to startle you. I just don’t want you to feel nervous or like you can’t talk to me. I really do enjoy talking to students, and just other people in general. Most people don’t enjoy talking to me so it’s nice when I find someone that does.” He blushes. Wait, he blushed? Why are <em> his </em>cheeks turning red?</p><p>“Well, I enjoy a good conversation too. And it’s okay, I just didn’t expect you to touch me, I guess.” I pause for a second. “Why wouldn’t someone want to talk to you? You must have so much knowledge to share, being a genius and all.”</p><p>“I guess that’s why,” he begins, “people find my rambling to be annoying. I want to share the knowledge I have, but that’s not always what constitutes a good conversation in some people’s opinion.”</p><p>“Well, not in my opinion.” I say boldly. I feel sober but drunk at the same time. Sober me would definitely not be having this conversation in the first place. But I don’t feel drunk, I feel… grounded. And focused. But I feel tipsy, like this conversation is affecting me the same way as alcohol. Maybe I shouldn’t think too much about it. <em> You’re blowing it, Y/N. </em> Blowing what?</p><p>He smiles and looks down at the ground. I find myself reaching my arm out and placing a finger below his chin, gently nudging his head back up to look at me. He looks surprised. I quickly pull away and begin to play with my hands again. I check the time on my phone: <em> 5 am </em>. Has it really been four hours? It barely felt like fifteen minutes. “I should probably get going soon, I have class in, holy shit, three hours, and I would like to get at least a little sleep before then. It was really nice officially meeting you, Dr. Reid.” I begin to make my way back to the entrance of the bar to find Amber and get us both home. </p><p>“Please, call me Spencer.” He says and turns as I start walking away. I pause my movements.</p><p> “Okay. Spencer.” I smile and disappear into the bar.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>a/n: i changed the ages of y/n and spencer bc i just felt weird about her being 19 and i also made spencer 26 just so they're closer in age so :)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I woke up groggy and absolutely exhausted. I had gotten </span>
  <em>
    <span>maybe</span>
  </em>
  <span> an hour of sleep before I needed to get up and ready for my 8 am. I dragged myself from my sheets and pulled my feet one in front of the other. I made it to my closet and opted for the comfiest outfit I could manage without looking completely busted. A sweatshirt and leggings it is. I combed through my hair with my fingers and pulled it into a tight messy bun, trying my best to control the frizz that came from the sweat and humidity of the night before. I walked into the bathroom I shared with Amber, quickly brushing my teeth and performing the quickest skincare routine I could without feeling absolutely disgusting. Thank </span>
  <em>
    <span>god</span>
  </em>
  <span> I don’t have Criminology class today, I would </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> want Spencer seeing me like this. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Spencer? When did I start calling him Spencer? </span>
  </em>
  <span>I shook my head at the thought and threw all of my things into my backpack and made my way into the lounge area. I saw Amber’s things thrown onto the counter and the door to her room shut, hopefully she would feel okay when she woke up later. I filled up my water bottle, not before downing as much water as I could, and proceeded to shove it into the pocket on the side of my bag. Checking my watch, I ran out the door and closed it quietly so as to not wake Amber.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I bounded down the stairs and quickly walked to campus. The apartment complex where I stayed for the semester wasn’t too far from the majority of my classes, but the anxiety of possibly being late always drove me to walk at an accelerated pace. I walked past the trees and the grassy knolls that littered the campus. The atmosphere of the land combined with the old, beautiful architecture of the college buildings made it feel so… romantic. Well, that’s something to keep me distracted from this wicked hangover. Fuck, was I still a little drunk? Maybe I should’ve skipped class this morning. No matter, I was already on my way and I knew that I would’ve felt incredibly guilty if I hadn’t gone. As I briskly walked to class, I passed by other students and faculty members along the way. I got lost in thought about what they might be like. It’s incredible that we all have our own intricate and complicated lives. It’s impossible to completely understand that everyone else has a life just as complex and detailed as my own. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I finally made it to the main campus building in which my Journalism History and Cultures class would take place. I’ve never been completely sure what I wanted to major in or what I wanted my career to look like, but I randomly picked Journalism last year and I actually really love it. I’ve always known that I wanted to do something important with my life and I’ve always enjoyed writing, so I guess it just kinda made sense to me. I walked down the long hallway decorated with doors and windows and bulletin boards. I made my way to the classroom I required and pushed open the door with a deep breath. I was early, but not so early that I beat my professor there. I looked down at the ground as I made my way to the front of the room, taking a seat in the third row, as usual. I looked up and smiled at my professor to say hi and he smiled back politely. I began taking out my things and more students filed into the classroom. Before I knew it, class had started and ended in a hungover (and maybe a little drunken) haze. I took a swig from my water bottle before standing up and placing a hand on my desk to steady myself. I threw my bag onto my back and trudged out of the classroom, into the hallway, and out of the building.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The rest of the day seemed to go incredibly fast while simultaneously going excruciatingly slow. See, this is why I don’t party. I always feel like absolute shit the next morning and it affects my entire day. I wonder how Amber’s holding up. I realized I hadn’t really talked to her all day so I made my way back to our shared space in order to catch up with her. It was almost a guarantee that she would be home because during the day, she’s either in class or asleep in our apartment. I looked down at my phone to text her and ask if she wanted to do a girl’s night in, but before I could type anything I ran into something- wait, no, some</span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my god, I am so sorry I-” I began to fluster immediately before I looked up and noticed who it was that I ran into. I took a shallow breath and my eyes widened before I gained whatever composure I could. “Dr. Reid, I- I’m so sorry I was just-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Spencer, please, and it’s okay,” he brushed it off, “don’t worry about it.” We both stood facing each other for a moment. Why didn’t we just say our apologies and keep walking? “Um, how are you, Y/N? Did you end up getting any sleep last night? Or should I say this morning.” He laughed shyly as he spoke. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh I, um, got like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>maybe</span>
  </em>
  <span> an hour of sleep. Coffee is a godsend, honestly,” I replied.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t I know it.” He said. I looked at him meekly, not sure what to say. He looked back into my eyes and I swear, his gaze could bore a hole through my skull. I could get lost in those eyes forever and I wouldn’t bother trying to find my way out. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Y/N, stop it!</span>
  </em>
  <span> I couldn’t stop it. Because as long as I looked into his eyes, he looked right back into mine. My spiraling thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his voice. “Are you okay?” He questions.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh!” I jumpstart back into reality. “Yeah, I’m fine, I guess I zoned out from not getting enough sleep. I’m hoping I can catch up tonight.” I laugh and I look down, hoping that if I stare hard enough, I could bury my face into the pavement. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s probably a good idea. I hope you don’t regret staying out so late though.” He says quickly, so quickly I almost missed it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No! I don’t, it’s just always hard the next day, you know? But it was nice to go out, for once.” I try to match his pacing, which isn’t too difficult, considering that the anxiety of the situation sped up my speech significantly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I get that.” He says and we begin to just… Stare at each other again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not wanting to make the situation more awkward, I hear myself beginning to talk again, “Um, I should probably get home, I haven’t seen Amber all day and I want to make sure she’s still among the living, haha, um… It was nice seeing you again, Dr. Reid.” I begin walking away, in a similar fashion to last night.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Spencer.” He corrects me. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Spencer.” I say. I start walking away but not for long. I hear footsteps behind me, a voice yell “Y/N!” and a hand grabbed my arm. I turn around pulled by the force exerted from the hand. I’m sure I looked shocked because the hand quickly let go of me. Spencer’s face looked apologetic.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, it’s just-” he rings his hands, “I was wondering if you would want my number? Um, I listed my email on the syllabus but it’s actually a lot easier to reach me through my personal cell phone, if you had questions about class or homework or… something.” He flustered through his words, why was he flustered? I’m the one who gets nervous here. His words put goosebumps along the back of my neck and the sides of my arms. I take a deep breath before answering, in hopes it would calm my nerves and steady my voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um, sure! That would actually be great because I already had a few questions about some of the material and I was going to email you but I haven’t had much time today and I guess I probably could’ve asked you now but I should probably get home so-” Is it possible for me to speak any faster?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Y/N.” He stops me before I can embarrass myself even more. “Here, I’ll put it into your phone for you.” I pause for a beat before unlocking my phone and extending my arm to hand it to him. He types the letters and numbers necessary into my phone and I can’t help but linger on his hands. How were his hands so attractive? Is that normal? He gently hands my phone back to me and I smile and say “Thank you, Dr. Reid,” not before he looks at me expectantly and raises his eyebrows. “Um, Spencer. Thank you, Spencer.” I smile as he looks into my eyes one more time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re welcome. See you tomorrow?” He questions.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“See you tomorrow.” I confirm with a tight-lipped smile before turning and walking away. I try my hardest to walk at a normal pace, but as soon as I can be sure that he is no longer watching, I nearly sprint to my apartment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Amber!” I yell as I cross the threshold into the apartment’s living room and nearly slam the door shut. “Amber, are you alive?” I call out, jokingly, before I hear movement coming from her bedroom.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, I’m alive and not deaf. You’re far too loud for the morning.” She groans and rubs her eyes, walking toward me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Amber, it’s 3 pm.” I state bluntly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you fucking serious?” She hurtles across the room to dramatically grab my phone and confirm the time. “Goddamn it, I have so much work to do.” She rubs her face and flops onto the couch. “Whatever, I’ve waited this long to do it, I can wait a little longer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I look at her with what I’m sure was a ridiculous look on my face and say “Girly. You-” I stop myself before telling her what to do. She always knows what works best for her when it comes to school, so who am I to question that? “Nevermind.” I sit down, cross-legged, on the opposite side of the couch. “Hey, do you want to have a girl’s night? I was gonna text you earlier but I- um, got distracted. I could go out and grab us some snacks and we could watch </span>
  <em>
    <span>Clueless</span>
  </em>
  <span>? It’s on Netflix now!” She knows </span>
  <em>
    <span>Clueless </span>
  </em>
  <span>is my favorite movie of all time and I think I’ve forced her to watch it enough times now that it’s her favorite too. I looked at her with as innocent a face I could and she rolled her eyes and nodded. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, sure. That sounds really good actually. But only if you buy the snacks! And get me my favorite ice cream?” Her voice raises the inflection at the end of her question and now it was my turn to roll my eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course, dummy. I’ll head to Wawa and I’ll grab a bunch of stuff. Text me with what you want.” I bend down to kiss her on the cheek and quickly turn, grab my keys, and head out the door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So,” Amber begins as the end credits of the movie begin to roll, “Who was that hot guy you were talking to last night?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I nearly choked on the popcorn I was eating. “What? Oh, um, it- I-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He seemed </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> into you. I could feel the tension all the way across the room.” She takes a spoonful of her pint of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought you were dancing with what’s-his-name across the room, how did you see what I was doing?” I try to throw her off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am much more perceptive than you think, girly.” She pokes my thigh playfully. “Now, spill! The guy I was dancing with was not really anything. Once I sobered up even the slightest bit, he wasn’t that cute. Or that good of a dancer. It was a little bit of a disappointment but I don’t care, I wanna know what happened with you!” She pokes me a few more times, which I will admit, was not a bad interrogation strategy on account of I am extremely ticklish.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, okay!” I swat her hands away and secure my pint of ice cream in my lap. “He, um, he is actually my Criminology professor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Excuse me? What was your Criminology professor doing at a student bar in the middle of first week parties?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s what I asked too! He said his coworker dragged him there or something. I don’t know what they were doing beforehand or why he wanted to go there, but,” I shrugged my shoulders.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What were you guys talking about? And don’t think I forgot about you going outside with him later! I was blackout but I always remember everything.” That was true, Amber had the memory of an elephant. But like, an elephant who also has a photographic memory.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know we were just kinda talking about nothing! I was still pretty drunk so right now, I’m just hoping what I said made sense and wasn’t too embarrassing.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lame! Next time you talk to him, and I know there will be a next time because that was too interesting for there to </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> be a next time, I expect there to be a lot more juicy details!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, uh,” I begin again, “I actually talked to him today.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I ran into him while I was on my way here earlier and we talked for a little bit. It was kinda awkward but I don’t know, it was weird. He gave me his number?” I say it like a question and watch Amber’s eyes widen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He gave you his number?” At this point, Amber was eating popcorn and looking at me like I was the movie.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, he said it was for if I have questions about class, do you think that’s weird?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, it’s cute! Wait, how old is this guy? I thought he was a student when you were talking to him last night and I can get behind a hot professor but a huge age gap and predatory behavior is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> cute.” Her tone turned serious and I quickly dismissed her concerns.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No no, he’s 26! Don’t worry about that.” She breathed a sigh of relief. “Isn’t it like, against the rules to date your professor? Not that we’re dating! And not that I was thinking about us dating! I’m sure he sticks to the rules I doubt he would ever do anything like that and it’s not like I’m one for breaking the rules I-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Slow down, speed racer!” She says as I try my hardest to figure out how to breathe at a normal rate “I’m pretty sure it’s not technically against the rules, but yeah, I guess it’s frowned upon and pretty taboo to date your teacher. But I mean, you two seemed to really get on last night. And it doesn’t make sense to stop something that has the potential to be great just because some people don’t think it’s ‘acceptable,’ whatever that means.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You think it has the potential to be great? I mean, I just met him yesterday. We barely talked, I barely know him!” I feel myself beginning to freak out a little bit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, hey, I mean, you don’t have to do </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> that you don’t want, but I know that I saw something between you too. Maybe it’s just a friendship or maybe it’s nothing! I just want you to be happy, you know that, right Y/N?” She puts her hands on my knees in an effort to comfort me. “I love you so much.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you too.” I smile softly at her, “I guess I just, I don’t even know what our relationship is right now. I mean, he’s definitely attractive, I’d have to be blind to miss that. But he’s my professor, you know? I guess I’d have to be completely positive that he feels the same way for me to ever initiate something.” Amber nods her head. “You know what is kinda strange though? He insists on me calling him Spencer. Is that weird? I guess I just feel weird because I’m most comfortable calling my professors by their titles or something more formal. I don’t know, I don’t know. It’s not that big of a deal I’m sure I’m just overthinking this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Amber has always been good at comforting me. “Whatever you are feeling right now, is totally and completely valid. You know I tease you because I love you, but I seriously just want what’s best for you. You seemed really excited last night and I just want you to be happy. I expect to be updated on this regularly, okay?” She laughs and raises her eyebrows at me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course,” I giggle and spoon a mouthful of ice cream into my mouth. “Now, I think it’s time we watch </span>
  <em>
    <span>Legally Blonde</span>
  </em>
  <span>, huh?” Amber laughs and I grab the remote and turn the TV to the timeless classic we both adore.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I couldn’t stop thinking about what Amber said about the potential of something great. Did it really seem </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> special to Amber? I trust her judgement, but as of right now, there’s nothing happening between me and Spencer. He’s just my professor and I’m just his student who happened to run into him twice outside of class. And who couldn’t stop staring into his eyes as he spoke. And who could barely breathe when he said my name. And who couldn’t focus when he talked because his hands moved with his words. And who now calls him Spencer, apparently. Do I even want something to happen between us? Sure, he’s handsome, like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> handsome, but he’s my </span>
  <em>
    <span>professor</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I’ve never really been one for dating anyways. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I take a deep breath and try to focus on the film playing in front of me. I mean, he did give me his number. That’s gotta count for something, right? I look at my phone and the clock reads </span>
  <em>
    <span>12:43 am</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I take another breath and do my best to leave those thoughts for tomorrow. It’s too late to be thinking clearly anyways. I grab the blanket that was hanging on the back of the couch and throw it over mine and Amber’s laps. I relax my shoulders and melt into the couch as I let the sounds of Reese Witherspoon and Luke Wilson take over my senses.</span>
</p>
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